


Rise Alone

by Zymm



Category: Red Queen - Victoria Aveyard
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Glass Sword Epliogue, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-09 17:07:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14720168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zymm/pseuds/Zymm
Summary: Maven offers Cal and Mare and offer they can’t refuse- the lives of many Reds, Silvers, and Newbloods, for their submission under the crown.Taking the place of the Glass Sword epilogue- an alternate ending in which Maven plays house and all suffer.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place instead of the epilogue of Glass Sword- kind of as a ‘what-if’ situation I’m toying with, because it seems like an interesting concept. And because I still can’t accept the ending of War Storm.

_ Mare _

 

    Tuck was not an island known for its hospitality, or its intrigue; it’s simply a boring, rather lonesome slice of land thrown haphazardly into the ocean. As much as I want to dislike it, I can’t help but love the little place. It’s unsafe, it’s full of Scarlet Guard-  some of whom want to see me fall-, and it’s rather unwelcoming. But it’s still better than being a sitting duck on the mainland, and the extra soldiers around me are an extra sign that my family is as safe as they could ever hope to be.

I shot the video yesterday, and by now, it’s probably been broadcasted to every Red, Silver, and Newblood across Norta. I think of the look in my eyes, that dangerous mixture of fear, disgust, and hatred, looking so odd on my young, plain face. I remember seeing myself flinch in the monitors as I touched Elara’s cold corpse. In that moment, I reminded myself of Maven.

It makes me sick.

But we’re safe. We’re back on Tuck, and my family is here. I woke up with Gisa’s arms tangled with my own, her red hair leaving fiery trails on her bare shoulders. She’d always had a habit of throwing herself around when she slept, always seeking warmth in her dreams.

I’d caught myself doing the same when Cal and I shared a bed, craving that heat underneath his skin. The thought sends a shock through me, and I feel my face catch on fire even as I splash water on it. 

_ Get it together,  _ I tell myself.

Cal had blown up on me after the battle at the prison, acting as if I’d done something  _ wrong.  _ Like I was the monster in all of this, not the Silvers. Not Elara. 

It puts a bitter taste on my tongue.

And then I remember Shade, and I forget about Cal. I forget about the war, about the Guard. It’s a like a switch, for me. It’s why Gisa held me so close last night.

There’s a knock at my bathroom door, and I glance quickly up at the mirror. I look hollow, my brown hair messy and my eyes red-rimmed and framed by bags. I’ll need a few more minutes.

“Just a sec.” I say, and I can’t help but grimace at the poor state my voice is in. Raspy as gravel.

“You’re good, just….” The voice trails off, and I recognize it as Bree. I don’t like how vulnerable he sounds. “Just making sure you’re still there.”

I don’t bother to finish getting ready, instead flinging the door open. He’s just as surprised at the hug as I am, but it feels good to hug him. He smells like outdoors, like sand and saltwater. It’s not like home, but like Tuck now. But I suppose we may never have a definite home anymore, so I accept it with open arms.

“I’m here.” I murmur.

“Well, obviously.” Bree scoffs, trying to downplay his worry, but he hugs me back hard.

 

\---------------------

 

“So what now?” I ask Farley. I found her at breakfast, much to her displeasure. It’s only been a few days since Shade, and I feel the tension, the blame still in the air between us. But there’s bigger matters at play here, though I don’t want to admit it. 

Farley knows it too, though she stares at me hard for a few moments. I feel like I’m being disected.

She takes a sip of her coffee, black. She’s barely touched her food.

“I don’t know, Barrow.” Farley answers me, and I see her wince at the last name.

She really loved him, and the thought sends a fresh sting to me, a deep ache inside of me.

“Has it been broadcasted?” I ask, trying to conjure an appetite as I push soggy oatmeal around my plate.

“For the most part. Found a little bit of interference, but not enough to stop it completely.” Farley explains. Her words are there, but her eyes are far away. She won’t look at me. 

“So now we wait.” I finish for her, guessing for the most part. I’m impatient. I want it here, and I want it now. It’s not a great trait, but I’m so ready for my hands around Maven’s throat, my lightening trailing through his frame, that it’s made me hasty with bloodlust.

I know he feels the same for me; two sides of a coin, I think bitterly. Cal thinks he understands, but he doesn't truly. Just like he doesn’t understand what I had to do at the prison.

Farley opens her mouth to speak, but she’s interrupted. 

“Miss Barrow.” Someone says, and I turn just in time to see the fair girl bow slightly for me, and it almost sets me into a laughing fit. The last time I was bowed at, I was Mareena, some mask put over my whole being. And even then, it was always short, irritated bows. 

No one bows for Mare Barrow.

I realize it’s Ada, a Newblood Cal and I recruited on the mainland. She used to be a maid, if I recall correctly, so it’s only in her training. 

“No need for the bow, Ada. We know each other better than that.” I say, trying to play off my scolding with a smile. But we were never close- the Newbloods always found themselves close to Cal or Kilorn, never me. 

“Sorry, Miss. Just a habit.” Ada forces a smile across her golden, freckled face. “I was sent to tell you there’s been a package left for you.”

“A package?” I can’t stop the words tumbling from my mouth. I’m completely taken aback- who would bother to send a package? Perhaps I forgot something in my family’s quarters and mother decided to send it? Even then, she would’ve sent Gisa to deliver it.

I bite back worry, instead trying to reassure my nerves.  _ You’re too pessimistic,  _ Gisa would always scold me.  _ Not everything is out to get you.  _

I pray she’s right.

 

\------------------

 

Ada brings me to her own personal quarters, which should’ve been a sign, when I look back. Why she didn’t just bring it to me in the mess hall, in front of wary, peeking eyes. But Ada had shown no emotion under the odd mask she was wearing, save for the nervous twitch of fingers as our footsteps echoed through the halls.

She looked both ways before we walked into her quarters. It’s little more than a glorified broom closet, with all the books she has shoved into corners. Most are barely even touched, but Ada only needs an hour or so to memorize their contents, I remember. She’s amazing, and I know Julian will be thrilled to talk to her, once he has recovered completely.

Ada sits on a chair next to a crowded desk, and crosses one dainty leg over the other. It’s then that her mask has flaws, and I catch the nervous energy pouring from her.

“Ada.” I say, and she flinches a little at my words. “What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry.” She blurts out, her big, amber eyes filling with tears. “I don’t know why they sent it to me, I wish they didn’t, I know it’s not for me-”

“Show me what it is, Ada. Then we’ll talk.” I tell her, even though her words clench at my throat. The girl is terrified, shaken to the bone. She nods at my words, pulling out a tiny box with shaking hands.

I take it from her with a little more force than necessary. With bated breath, I open the tiny box.

It’s a beautiful piece of cloth, a dark, rich black. Overlaid on its surface is swirls and flowers of ruby red, framed with gorgeous green leaves. It’s only a scrap of fabric, only a tiny portion of a larger picture. It’s seemingly harmless, but I want to vomit. Tears blur the edges of my vision.

It’s a piece done by Gisa, a tiny scrap that only her hands could’ve created. I had seen it, a few days before, among the many cloths in progress on her desk. 

I don’t even bother with the rest of the box. I turn to run.

“No, no, they’re safe.” Ada says quickly. “I checked, before I even came to you. I visited her a few weeks ago, when she was making this. I remembered.”

“They’re safe? Does she know?” I ask, biting my lip until I can taste a bit of metallic blood. Red.

“They’re just as normal. I didn’t ask her, but it wasn’t on her desk.” Ada explains. “I’d remember.”

I listen to her as I open the rest of the box. I already know what it is going to be. It’s like pulling the trigger on a cocked gun, ready for the worst, knowing it will be there, waiting for you. 

Underneath the unfinished scrap it a tiny note, beautiful silver handwriting scrawled across a fine piece of parchment.

 

_ I have a deal that may interest you, love. _

 

It doesn’t have to be signed for me to  _ know.  _ I can feel Ada’s eyes roving me, and she says something, but I don’t hear. There’s blood roaring in my ears, speaking to me, louder than her small voice. I can’t breathe. I need air.

I run from Ada’s room like a possessed woman. My footsteps are far too loud on the steel floors, my presence undoubtedly known to everyone in the wing, but it doesn’t stop me. I need air, above this contraption, away from these walls. I’m suffocating, in ways that not even fresh sea air could fix. But it doesn’t stop me.

I run into a form right as I’m about to dart out the wing; rather, it grabs me.

I feel the heat before I place the face.

“Mare,” Cal says, concern across his sharp features. I wrench out of his grip, even though it leaves my shoulders sore from the effort. I know he’ll follow me, no matter what I do.

I sink into the sand outside.

It feels nice, comforting, even. It laps around my knees, the grainy substance finding its way into every nook. It’s warm, stealing heat from the summer sun. 

“Mare.” He echoes, from behind me. I don’t turn.

“He got inside my family’s quarters.” I say breathlessly, and the revelation isn’t new to me but it almost  _ feels  _ like I’m hearing it for the first time, the way it scares me. 

“What?” Cal asks, shocked, before he can stop himself.

“Not him, someone inside the Guard. Someone who works for him.” I close my eyes, feeling the sea breeze sting my skin with salty air. I feel sick. “Took a piece of Gisa’s work. Sent me a message. He has a ‘deal’.”

“What does that mean?” Cal asks again. I don’t want to look at him.

“I knew we weren’t completely safe.” I say, completely ignoring him. I don’t realize I’m gulping air, as if I’m drowning, until it’s completely quiet. “I knew it wouldn’t last. But for a moment there, it felt like we were ahead. Felt like it would all be okay.”

Cal doesn’t know what to say to that. I don’t either.

 

\-----------------

 

I don’t tell my family.

I know I should, since it directly involves them. But this is the first time they are in the crosshairs, in the fight right alongside me. It’s as if I sent them to War, to the frontlines. But they are weak, and they will not be able to last. It’s not the war against the Lakelanders, it’s the one against the Silvers, against Maven. I’m not even sure I’ll last.

So I don’t tell them, figuring they would never accept what I am about to do.

I eat dinner with them, eat the food that tastes like nothing to me. The table isn’t as lively as it once was, not without Shade. Mother doesn’t eat with us, but instead sleeps. I don’t have to ask to know that she has been in bed since she heard about Shade. 

It’s what I want to do, but I know Shade would hate me if I did that. I can’t afford to let it stop me, let it stop the revolution.

He wouldn’t accept what I am about to do, either, but Shade loves too hard. He lets it cloud his vision, and he doesn’t see the big picture, not like I do. He couldn’t understand it all, though I love him just as fiercely. _ Loved _ .

We go to bed that night, the house eerily silent as I slip into bed beside Gisa. She grabs my arm, latching on in her sleep, but I push her off gently. I need to be able to slip out without disturbing her. 

And so I wait, staring up at the steel ceiling above us, waiting for Cal.

 

\------------------

 

When Cal comes for me, I’m ready. My body is already going through the motions as I slip out of bed, quiet as a mouse. My old thieving still helps me, even though I no longer scrounge for my family. It’s because of it that I’m able to slip my thick leggings on, a simple white tunic over it. It’s military-grade, the average uniform that the Guard could provide me.

Gisa stirs for a moment, moving to brush hair out of her mouth. I freeze, my blood running cold. She’d stop me, she’d tell my family- Bree and Trammy would hold me down themselves to keep me from going.

But instead she falls back into silence, save for her soft breathing. I sigh.

There’s another tap at the wall, quiet but insistent. Even the young prince is impatient tonight, his nerves on edge. 

After we’d read the rest of the letter, together, he’d put aside whatever grudge he held against me from the prison. It may only be a temporary ceasefire, but it was a ceasefire nonetheless. We had more to worry about now.

 

_ Room 428, 1 am _

__ _ I’m looking forward to it. _

 

__ I met Cal outside my family’s quarters, leaning against the wall. He looked drained, even with his eyes closed and face blank. I could see the changes evident in him; his skin was paler than normal, the bags under his eyes bruised and prominent. He was dressed in the male equivalent of what I had, but it hung off of him a little more than normal, as if he’d lost weight.

Of course I’d know exactly what his body looked like, I think, my cheeks reddening. How stupid.

He opened a brown eye, seeing me taking him in. He looked a little uncomfortable, as if he knew just how worn he looked.

“Good morning.” Cal says as we began to walk, and I laugh bitterly.

“For who? Maven?” I answer. A pained expression crosses his features, and for a second, I feel bad. I shouldn’t take the worry out on him.

“Let’s hope not.” He said, the iron in his voice back. As stupid and stubborn as he can sometimes be, I admire him. He was born and bred to be a King, and though I doubt he could ever wield a crown as Maven does, he holds himself to the standard. 

Room 428 is in an odd sector of the Tuck base, one I hadn’t even ventured into. It was dusty and old, and the smell of mildew hit me instantly. At the end of one of these hallways was the room we were looking for; it was sorely lacking in its hospitality, even by Tusk standards.

“After you,” Cal says, as he props open the rusty door for me to enter. I can’t help but roll my eyes.

“Isn’t the more appropriate response for you to go in first? We’re going headfirst into danger, after all.” I remind him.

“Who’s to say you’re not protecting me?” He shoots back.

Though worry and anxiety chews at me, twisting my insides, I can’t help but shoot him a little grin. He’s here, Cal is right beside me. I am not facing this alone.

The room is bare and cold, trapping us into a tiny space no bigger than a closet. The smell of mold is doubled in here. In the middle sits a tiny table, flanked by two chairs. It upsets me that Maven knew Cal would accompany me, that I wouldn’t face him alone.

In the middle of the table sits a tiny device. It’s worn and dusty, and I can’t quite figure out what it is, even as I cross the room to be nearer.

“It’s a radio.” Cal breathes out, skimming his fingers across the surface. He turns a knob- it’s so old, I’m scared it may break off in his large grip. But it buzzes to life, and I feel the familiar hum in my bones, boring into my brain.

I close my eyes, breathing in the familiar surroundings. It may not be welcoming, but it’s Tuck, and it’s far, far away from Maven, no matter what he may want me to think.

“Hey,” Cal says, and I feel his hand engulf mine before I can open my eyes. He’s reaching across the table, and the fire under his skin pulses in time with his heartbeat. He’s just as nervous as me. “I’m here. I won’t leave you.”

I nod. I don’t have to say thank you, because it’s no longer a favor between us. It’s a promise.

“Looks like it’s already tuned into a specific station.” Cal tells me. His brow furrows as he starts to examine the old thing, strands of black hair beginning to fall into his face. He didn’t even brush it back like he normally does. 

“I wonder if we should change it-” I begin to say, before the static makes way for a voice.

“Hello, you two.” 

It’s so cheery, so happy and fake, that it almost sounds as if we are taking a nice call, reuniting with a loved one. It’s still fuzzy, the radio wanting to work against the incoming call, but it comes out well enough among the static that Cal and I both freeze. We knew it would be this, of course, but it still turns my blood to ice.

“How are you enjoying the sea? I’ve heard it’s quite nice to sail around the islands up there, just a pleasure.” Maven says, jabbering happily. His chipper tone makes my stomach twist over itself again and again. I stare at a dark corner. 

“I know my brother wouldn’t go on the water, though. It’s a family trait.” 

I feel the room heat up, as if a fireplace was kindled, and it’s my turn to shoot Cal a look. He’s wearing his heart on his sleeve, and I’m grateful that this is a radio, not a video.

“But enough about your vacation, let’s talk about interesting things.” Maven says. “I assume you’ve heard about the newest addition to the Nortan forces. I know that must pique your interest, Mare?”

He’s baiting me, I know it. And I simply can’t help it- it’s who I am, it’s in my blood, quite literally. 

“It’s barbaric, Maven. We all know that.” I respond, making my voice as icy and bitter as possible. Maven sighs.

“Oh, it’s so nice to hear your voice once again, dear. It sounds so different on those televisions.” 

I grin, despite myself. “Yes, I tend to hog the screens. Especially when my co-star is a corpse. Your mother’s, if I remember correctly?”

The line is silent for a moment. I feel happy, giddy even, although Cal’s brows are knitted together with worry. He thinks I’ve just sealed myself into an early grave, but he must know by now that I did that long, long ago. What more do I have to worry about? I’ve already done the worst.

But Maven’s pause was misunderstood. His voice returns, seemingly unchanged. “Ah, yes. A pity, but perhaps a necessary evil.”

He’s caught both of us off guard, once again. I don’t know how to respond.

“We all grieve in our own ways, Mare.” Maven adds, though I never asked for an explanation. “Me, I plan. And I have an enticing offer, if you wish to hear it.”

I don’t. I don’t want to hear it, don’t want to even consider it.

But I can’t  _ not _ hear it, not after seeing that scrap of fabric, not after seeing my sister, my family, still grieving Shade. He’s got me trapped from thousands of miles away, and he knows it. Cal grabs my hand from across the table, again, and gives a reassuring squeeze. He’s more composed than I am, but he is also not the object of Maven’s obsessions.

“What if I told you that I could take back the Dagger Legion?” 

Cal’s chin shoots up, seemingly shocked by the option. His brown eyes meet mine, alight with flame. Intrigued, in a dark, scared way.

“Or perhaps repeal the Measures?”

God, the measures. I can’t even think about it; it had seemed like such a far-away problem here at Tuck. I’d forgotten about the trials the Reds were going through on the mainland, and the thought makes me feel shame. My cheeks heat up, despite myself.

“And, of course, protect those closest to you?”

My chest burns, hurting me at the thought. At the implication beneath it.  _ Protect or damn? _

Cal’s hand burns in my own, but I grasp it tightly nonetheless.

“And what of us? We both know this isn’t some love letter to me, Maven.” I spit his name with as much venom as I can muster. He laughs lightly, as if it is a humorous joke that we do not understand.

“Quite the opposite, dear. This is my love letter to you, if you choose to see it as so.” The thought revolts me, but Maven continues. “I will promise all three, for you and my brother.”

Of course, I think bitterly. Of course that would be his terms. We both knew it, Cal and I, before we’d even entered the room. We knew we were talking each other into our own graves, digging the hole with the shovel Maven gave us. Cal’s lips twist into a snarl.

“No. It’s not worth it.” Cal spits at his brother. 

“How nice of you to join, brother. It’s like a family reunion.” Maven says cheerfully. “At least until we all meet again in person.”

“We won’t. We have no plans to be anywhere near you, Maven.” Cal responds bitterly.

They talk, and I think.

Of course Cal would say no- he doesn’t understand the Reds and he never will. He never lived as I did, never saw the pain; though I forgot about the slums on the mainland, the Measures they lived to, Cal never even remembered. He didn’t even have the decency to forget. He didn’t even care.

And I don’t blame him. He couldn’t understand.

I watch the twitch in his jaw as he grinds his teeth; his hand is blistering now, and heat rolls off of him in waves. No one has the ability to agitate him quite as his brother does.

“And what if we say yes?” I ask, breaking the silence. Cal shoots me a glare, a strong look as if I have betrayed him. I can practically see Maven’s smile, the glint in his icy eyes. He knows me all too well.

“Then I will prepare a place for you both.” Maven announces. 

“A place? An execution, you mean?” Cal scoffs, disgusted at the idea. Maven simply laughs.

“No, brother. I have a second chance for you both.” 

A second chance. 

The idea is revolting; Maven’s idea of second chances typically come in chains, whether physical or not. Cal and I both know this, and we share the sentiment with a heated gaze across the table. 

“Which is?” I ask. And, for once, Maven doesn’t talk instantly. He isn’t prepared and ready to fire, eager to engage in psychological warfare. For once, he is the boy-king that he truly is, talking with vulnerability. It takes us both aback.

After a moment of silence, he continues.

“Cal will serve as head of my personal guard, of course.”

Maven says the idea as if it’s obvious, a position Cal was always meant to inhabit. I scoff aloud before I can choke it back, the idea so ridiculous that it’s laughable to me. Cal doesn’t share the same sentiment; he doesn’t agree with Maven’s words, but is more grave and stony than I am. I shake his hand lightly, trying to gain his attention, but he is glaring at the radio, as if it is Maven himself.

“He’d be such a wonderful addition, don’t you think?” Maven adds, pouring salt into the wound.

“Bullshit,” I say, before I can stop myself. “What if he tried to kill you in your sleep? You can’t trust him.”

“Oh, Mare. You honestly think I haven’t thought that through?” Maven says, so condescending that it makes my being ache, ache to wrap my hands around his throat. I seethe. “I have the rest of the guard to keep him on path; namely, Samson Merandus.”

The name makes Cal’s shoulders tense, his broad form moving away from the radio on instinct. I do not know Samson personally, but his surname is enough to let me in on the secret between the two. It tastes bitter in my mouth.

“You’ll be there as well, Mare.” Maven says, talking to us as if we’ve already made a decision. It makes me sick. “And of course the two lovers would never cross me, lest I decide to punish the other? How tragic a fate that would be.” 

Cal remains silent, his eyes closed so tightly it looks painful. I’m not as subdued as him.

“You’re a fool, Maven.” I spit. “A fool with ridiculous schemes. It will be your end, someday.”

Maven laughs. “Of course you’d think that. But I have an interesting role for you as well, my dear.”

Cal has opened his eyes slightly, bracing himself. His body tenses, muscles moving under his shirt. His response scares me, and for once I feel left out. I feel as if I am not really here, as if I am just a pawn in a game of two brothers. Perhaps I am.

But Maven’s words still take me aback nonetheless.

“You’d be my betrothed, love. My red, red Queen.”

 

\------------------

 

I laugh, so loudly that I expect Cal to stop me. I expect him to slap a hand over my mouth, to yell at me to keep quiet, to stop me from waking the whole base. But I can’t help it. The idea is so ridiculous, such an odd, impossible idea. Above all, it is stupid, foolish from the start. Maven truly has become the insane king, and it suits him so well.

So I laugh, and I must seem like a woman gone mad. 

Cal does not laugh with me. His head is in his hands, his elbows on his knees, and he looks like a broken man. He does not find it funny, which makes it all the more humorous to me. Does he not think it is the silliest thing? It would never work, and Maven is calling our bluffs. Nothing has changed.

His eyes are rimmed with red when he looks up at me. He looks at me like I’m already dead, like we are at my funeral and he is saying his last few words to me.

“You are a fool, Maven Calore.” I say finally, once it has stopped being funny. Still, a giggle threatens to break free from me. It’s so ridiculous. Norta would never agree to it; the land itself may swallow me whole if I try my hand at Queenship. 

“I knew you’d say that, Mare.” He says, and he is no longer chipper. He is serious, serious as death. It’s not funny to me anymore. His mask of happiness was much nicer than this, much less concerning. 

“But it is a genius idea in itself. I was even taken aback- it’s such an easy way to get what I want, so simple that it couldn’t possibly be a solution. Yet, somehow, it is.” Maven speaks clearly.

“The country would not have it- the Silver lords would kill me the moment you announced it.” I tell him, the smile slowly slipping off my face. It’s not as ridiculous anymore. It’s a threat, a sharp knife in my side. 

“But you aren’t simply red, and they know that. The minute you renounce the Guard, condemn the terrorists, explain how they controlled you- they will conform to the new.” 

“Words are worthless, Maven. They mean nothing.” I spit back.

“Perhaps. But when they come from me, they mean everything.” He says, as if I should know that. 

_ The truth is what I make it. I could set this world on fire and call it rain. _

I am sobered in a heartbeat. He’s right, I realize; Cal has already realized this, and my heart breaks for him. He isn’t looking at me, but he is  _ pained _ , his face twisted as if he is burning alive. I ache.

“Why would I condemn them?” I ask, barely a whisper, even though I know the answer and I know he’s right.

“We both know the Guard continues no matter what you say, with or without your support. You’re but a small gear in their machine- albeit a shiny, famous one- and they will continue.” He says the words, not bothering to mask the bitterness behind them. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping that it is all a nasty dream, that I will wake with Gisa’s arms around me and bright hair in my face.

“And the Reds will see it as a win, no matter what you may think; red and silver, united under the crown. We both know that the world knows nothing of the crown but what we show them on shiny televisions.” Maven explains as we sit in solemn silence. It is quiet after his words have settled, quiet until he prods us again. “And your decision?”

I look at Cal, and he meets my eyes. I read him like a book, as he wears his feelings on his sleeve. It is hard to look at, as if I’m looking at something I should never see, never  _ wanted  _ to see. An exiled heir, broken and exhausted. There is shame, guilt in his red-rimmed eyes, and I realize he thinks he has damned me.

_ No. I created my fate. _

I shake my head at him softly, and I feel tears prickling at my own eyes. But now is not the time.

Cal takes my hand, the one he had been holding; he brings the open palm to his lips and presses a small kiss inside, folding my fingers over the present once he is done. He doesn’t break my gaze.

Cal has already made his decision, I know, and I know which he has chosen. But the way he looks at me, I know that he expects me to choose for us both. And although it is a damning choice, it is a clear choice.

“I must know quickly, my dear. Your hand, Cal’s service, for the end of the measures, the end of the early conscription, and the safety of your friends and family.” Maven asks; for once, he is vulnerable- he is nervous, just as much as we are, and impatient. 

I speak before I can talk myself out of it.

“You stop hunting the newbloods as well.” I say, mustering all my strength.

“As you wish.” Maven responds quickly, and for a slight moment, I feel powerful. I wonder if it is the last time I will ever feel that way.

“Then we agree.”


	2. Chapter 2

_ Mare _

  
  


When the call is ended, and we sit in silence, I feel it all.

I don’t look at Cal; I can’t. I feel as if I’ve sentenced us, as if I’ve decided both of our fates, like I’ve folded under the first sign of compromise, the first treat shoved in my face. I feel  _ dirty. _

Most of all, I feel sorrow. No matter how I look at it, I can’t help but feel as if I’ve signed my fate. Perhaps Cal could still get out of this someday, still find an escape. But me- it’s over. It’s selfish to think that way, I know, but I can’t not view it as that.

I’ll make sure Cal gets out.

He looks at me just then, his brown eyes so dark and intense, that I wonder if he’d heard that thought, that perhaps my conviction had thrown it into his own mind. Because I feel it, deep inside me. If it’s the last damn thing I’ll do, I’ll get Cal out of this. Even if it’s years from now, I’ll make sure of it. I just signed away his life too, and I won’t let it be the end of him.

He shakes his head, his hair shadowing his grim features. His mouth is in a thin line, and I wonder if he’s mad at me.

“I’m sorry,” I say, even though I wince as it comes out of my mouth; I’m a fool for this boy, and though I stand by the idea that  _ i don’t give a damn about anyone’s opinion  _ I know that Cal’s is everything to me. 

“No,” He says quickly, his brows furrowing as he frowns at me. “This isn’t you. It was never you.”

“It sounds a lot like my fault, actually.” I say, a bitter chuckle escaping me. I throw my hands up slightly, shaking my head. “If I wasn’t here, didn’t get in the way of some royal feud- you may still have your father, Cal. That’s how badly I’ve screwed your life.”

Cal shakes his head softly, and there’s a light smile on his face, just barely gracing his features, almost hidden. If it were anyone else, I’d be angry- it’s like he’s talking to a small child who just doesn’t get it. But I know Cal too well, and know he wouldn’t dare condescend me. 

“You were just the catalyst, Mare.” Cal says simply. “You didn’t make Maven into, into a…”

He struggles for words, but luckily I’m always prepared on the topic. “A monster.”

His jaw tightens, but he nods nonetheless. “You didn’t make him that, and you didn’t make Elara do anything she hadn’t already been planning since before I was even born, probably.”

I nod; I can see his point, but I still take no pride in being the catalyst. It may be the lesser of two evils, but it doesn’t change anything.

“It won’t last, anyways.” I tell him. I feel a surge of hate in me, fresh and cold, for a certain boy-king. His whole plan is ridiculous, crumbling at the seams before it’s even in action. I can’t help the grin that creeps onto my face.

“Think of all the loose ends he’s not thinking of.” I tell Cal, who seems oddly uncomfortable. I want to shake him. “Evangeline, for one- she’ll rip him apart once she realizes she isn’t going to be a queen.”

I picture the magnetron now, seething with rage; another failed attempt at gaining the power she lusts for. God, she’ll probably tear Maven limb from limb.

“And house Samos. They won’t stand for it- think of the pride of those people.” I continue, the thoughts coming to me one by one, energizing. “The houses that are still loyal to him despise me, and the newbloods. I can condemn the Guard all I want- it doesn’t change who I am. They won’t have a terrorist for a queen.”

I laugh, louder than before. He’s a goddamn fool, and it will be his end.

Cal doesn’t share the same sentiment as me; he is wincing as I talk, the worry clear on his face. I frown at him.

“That’s only the beginning. Just think, Cal. We’ll go, play his part, and watch the throne crumble without us even lifting a finger.” I tell him. He bites his lip, shaking his head yet again.

“Maven’s smarter than that, Mare. For all these issues, he probably already has multiple solutions, a dozen ways to deal with it.” Cal says softly, like he’s speaking but praying he’s wrong in the same breath. 

“Just try.” I tell him, before I can stop myself. It comes out rougher than I wanted it to. “Just  _ try  _ and stay hopeful with me, else we’re just digging our graves willingly.”

He doesn’t speak, but he looks at me again, like I’m a girl already dead. It drives me mad.

“Okay. I’ll try, but you need to stay realistic.” He shoots back.

“Cal.” I can’t help but laugh. “I didn’t grow up in the royal family, and even I know how fragile it is. And that was in  _ good  _ times. Just picture how it is now. Spread across two fronts, about to alienate his few allies? He’s a dead man, Cal.”

Cal winces at that, and I try not to notice, try not to snap at him. I know he still hopes, hopes that there may be another solution. I do not.

 

\------------------

 

There’s a lot of planning to do. 

Although we came to a decision with Maven, possibly sealing our fates, there’s still many loose ends on both sides. The first had came to me, fleeting, but I’d barely thought of it at the time. Cal brings it up later, in his room. We’d walked there after the radio conversation- neither of us could possibly sleep.

I chose to ignore the implication, as well.

“Someone gave the package to Ada, set up the room for us.” Cal says suddenly, after we’d sat in silence for a few moments. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, his elbows balanced on his knees, his hands holding his chin. He looked like a pondering monarch.

“We all knew there’d have to be spies somewhere in the Guard.” I respond. I’m sitting at his desk, but the room is small. After our fight after the prison, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be close to him again. But here I am, squished into a small room in the wee hours of the morning. The universe has a sense of humor.

“But that daring?” He shakes his head, concentrating. “That’s not a good sign. It has to be someone with some sort of clearance, too.” 

“We can’t tell anyone, though. They’ll try to stop us.” I say quickly. 

“And then Maven will only make things worse.” He sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. He looks tired, drained mentally and physically. 

“I’m going to leave Gisa a note.” I say. I wasn’t planning on telling him, but the words slip out before I can grab them back. He opens his mouth to argue with me.

“I have to. I can’t just leave her like that. I won’t explain it all, but I’ll tell her there’s an insider.” I explain, hoping it’s a wise choice. He still looks worried. “I’ll tell her to tell Kilorn, but no one else. Maybe Farley.”

“We have to let Farley know. She’s our ticket out.” Cal says, and we both know that’s going to be the hardest move. Well, after the prison, she may love to boot me off the island, to never see my face again. The thought of Shade sends a wave of guilt over me.

He wouldn’t like this. He’d call me a fool. But I have to- I’m doing this for the people I love, for him. He’d hate it, but it’s may way of trying to ensure that what happened to him doesn’t happen again.

“She’ll call us fools.” I say, shutting my eyes. I can’t help but smile, a little bitter, because I think she’s right.

“I can’t decide if she’s right or not.” Cal says, the same dark sense of humor between us. We’d walk into death with a smile on our faces, simply because we’d evaded it for so long. I wonder if it’s fate, if it’s fate chasing us down, bringing us to our real ending. 

“It’s the right choice.” Cal says, surprising me. I look up suddenly, and he’s leaning towards me. With how cramped the quarters are on Tuck, he’s only a foot or two away from me, closer than we’d been in weeks. I crave it- his physical warmth, and his approval. I hate that I need both.

“He’s got our backs against the wall. It’s the perfect deal, and he knows that. We’d be fools not to take it- with how many people we’d be saving.” Cal says, and part of me knows he’s trying to convince himself of it, as well. “We’re only damning ourselves. But I think we did that a long time ago.”

I think back to our first kiss- the quick, fleeting touch of lips, dancing in an empty ballroom. Back when we weren’t worried about our lives, back when our futures were planned for us, and we had little say. I felt helpless, yet I still miss those days of having my fate planned safely. We aren’t safe anymore.

We’re leaning into a kiss before we can stop it.

And it’s like some bitter, sad reunion. I missed his closeness, missed his kisses, missed his warmth. Missed him, his soul the most, however cliched it may seem. It makes me weak and vulnerable, and though I hate that feeling, I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

He pulls me into him, back into the rickety bed behind him. It’s tiny, just a twin bed with a flimsy grey blanket, but it’s perfect because it’s him. It’s not the king, it’s the boy underneath.

Cal touches the back of my neck, hands threading through my hair to deepen our kiss, and I feel a sharp sting. I gasp into him, surprised. He’d accidentally burned me, just a fleeting touch of a fiery-hot palm.

“Oh god, I’m sorry.” He says, out of breath. His eyes are wide, his pupils giant. He’s stumbling over his words, and I grin. “I- I’ve never done this-”

“Neither have I.” I tell him quickly. “No apologies if I shock you.”

He smiles back at me, and dives back in. 

For a few hours, everything is as it should be, and we don’t think about tomorrow. It’s bittersweet: a night of firsts and lasts.

 

\----------------

 

We don’t sleep much after; the mood is somber and reflective, and I know we are thinking the same worries. In the tiny bed, the only comfortable position is with my head jammed into the crook of his neck, our legs intertwined. I’m small, a perfect size for a thief; but Cal, Cal is definitely not.

He’s still warm, much warmer than a human should be; but I’d grown accustomed to it from our nights in the house on the mainland, when we’d been recruiting newbloods from across Norta. Simpler times. He runs a hand through my hair, smoothing back the stray pieces. It would be sweet, but I know from the look in his eyes that he’s not really there; his mind is elsewhere.

“One less thing Maven can take away from me.” I say quietly, and it’s pathetic and pitiful and sad, but it’s true. I wait for Cal to get sad, to feel shameful, but instead he surprises me.

His chest is shaking slightly under my hand, and I realize he’s laughing, softly but still there.

“Mare, your pillow talk is downright atrocious.” He laughs, and I join in too. I’m okay with that fact.

It’s quiet for a few more moments, before Cal talks again. His voice is different, hard to place.

“I’ll protect you for as long as I can.” 

 

\----------------------

 

I get up finally at dawn, untangling myself from him and the sheets, missing the warmth immediately. I’m sliding on my leggings again when my hand brushes up against the side of my hip, and I feel a flicker of sore pain.

Cal must’ve heard my intake. “Mare?”

“I’m fine.” I say quickly, suspiciously. There’s a big handprint on my hip, stretching across my side; it’s not a bad burn, but it’s a red sore. It’ll take a bit to heal- I’m glad the lights are off, and the room dim, or else Cal would be beating himself up over it. “Just a bit sore, is all.”

He doesn’t respond, already preoccupied with another task behind me. I gently pull the leggings all the way up. It’s not terrible, I decide. I’ve definitely had worse, without a doubt. It’s not even worth visiting the healer, especially not for the pointed looks Sara may give me. And then Julian, Cal’s uncle.

The thought makes me shudder. 

“I’m going to go leave Gisa her note.” I tell Cal. Gisa has probably already migrated to the mess hall, about to start her day sewing and embroidering beautiful, red flags for the Guard. She has no idea what is going on, no idea what is about to happen. I’m happy she is ignorant.

“Okay. I’m going to talk to Farley, then.” Cal says, his face back into the stony, worried mask he wore last night, before we fell into his bed. I wonder if I’ll ever see him smile again, ever hear his laugh.

I stand on my tip toes to give him a quick goodbye. From the look in his eyes, I know we are both wondering if it’ll be the last. But we don’t have time for those selfish thoughts, not now.

 

\--------------------

 

_ Gisa _

 

_ Don’t worry for us. There’s more than what meets the eye, and know that not everything you see from Whitefire is honest.  _

__ _ Not everyone in the Guard is honest. Tell Kilorn he needs to find the breach. _

__ _ I love you all. _

 

__ _ Mare _

 

__ I want to leave more, but I can’t complicate things. I can’t put her in danger, can’t burden here with more knowledge. So I leave it at that. 

I tuck it underneath her pillow, carefully tucked between the folds of her cloth, the black one with rose adornments, the one stolen from her.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

I wish it would’ve taken me longer to write my note, and place it; I wish I could’ve slowed the clock, could’ve made the hours slow. I wish I could’ve laid in bed with Cal and talked about my god-awful manners, pretending like our decisions weren’t crushing us.

I’m standing near the aircraft bunkers, watching two figures make their way over the sand dunes to me. I memorize the picture in my brain, one of the last few moments of freedom in the rest of my life: Cal’s strong form striding to me, his shoulders tense and face solemn, and Farley, slighter but just as strong, a scowl on her features. She’s not happy, and I can tell before she even opens her mouth.

“For shitty ideas, this takes the fucking cake.” 

I laugh, because it’s probably one of the sentences I’ll remember Farley by. It’s the perfect picture of her constant state, somewhere between caring aggressively and wanting to rip you to shreds for stupid ideas. No wonder Shade loved her.

He would support my sacrifice, I tell myself. He may be biased by my choice, but once I’d explained to him the powers in play and the lives at stake, he’d agree. Maybe one day I’ll get to tell him myself. 

I don’t tell Farley that, though, because I enjoy having all of my limbs.

“There’s a lot we’ve agreed on for this.” Cal says, his voice calm but defensive. We follow her into the bunker, trailing her tail like children. She shakes her hair, sighing.

“It’s not enough. Not enough to play into his hand, give him what he wants.” She spits back.

“He’s a man of his word.” I say, and the words are sour in my mouth but they’re true. Cal looks back at me, as if he’d just noticed me; his eyes are heartbreaking, and I can’t meet them.

“Whatever I say there, I don’t mean it.” I tell Farley, after she tries to ignore my previous statement. I say it as I’m walking past her, entering the small jet. She shakes her head at me, looking at me as if I’m some poor, poor fool, heading to the frontlines of the war.

“I don’t know why I’m helping you two.” She says finally, her jaw clenched. 

“He’s repealing the measures, sending the Dagger Legion back home.” I tell her, and I’m not trying to convince myself of this. I know it’s worth it. “Two things keeping Reds from supporting the Guard, keeping their hands tied. If anything it will help you.”

“Yeah, as soon as we have our two strongest members suddenly sleeping with the King.” Farley scoffs. “Wait, that’s just one of you.”

Cal stiffens, and his jaw is clenched so tight I swear I can hear teeth grinding together. The temperature in the jet soars. 

“Cool it, bonfire. Didn’t mean anything by it.” Farley says, even though she clearly did; but there’s still a hint of guilt in her voice, because she realized she was talking truth. I ignore it for the time being- I’m still firmly rooted in the fact that it won’t last. Cal and I will be out of there before Maven even has the time for a wedding ceremony. He’ll be roasted alive by his own ‘supporters’.

“It won’t last. He’s going to lose the support of his court, and then he’ll be fighting on three fronts. We’ll be back within the month.” I’m not sure about the last part, but I bluff, strong and confident. Farley sees right through me, if her face is any indication, but she chooses to ignore it.

“It can only help the Guard in the long run.” Cal says finally, grimly. He’s not looking at us.

Farley thinks, but even as she speaks, she’s unhappy, shaking her head. “Fine. We’ll see how it plays out. But we can’t play rescue here, not with what you’ve gotten yourselves into.”

“We never really had a choice, anyways.” I snap. “We refuse, he punishes the Reds for it. Makes the whole situation worse. It’s just the lesser of two evils here, and he’s getting exactly what he wants.”

Farley looks at me hard, staring straight through me. I wonder if she’s thinking about Shade, thinking about what he’d do. I wonder if she feels guilty, agreeing to take Shade’s younger sister into the heart of the battle, enabling her demise. I hope not, I honestly do.

“I don’t like it.” Farley says. She’s no longer angry, no longer fuming; she’s just blank, as if she’d ran out of emotions to use. “But I’ll do it.”

 

\-----------------

 

The plane ride is miserable, but it passes quickly. It’s bittersweet- we don’t want it to end, yet if we sat there for a second longer, stewing in worry and sadness, we’d go mad.

“Good luck.” Farley says simply, and she means it. She’s not fond of affection, not fond of many words, but it’s probably the sweetest thing she’s ever said to me.

“Make him burn.” 

Actually, that probably was.

Cal is quiet, sullen, and withdrawn. The walk to the edge of the city is quiet and nerve-wracking. Though I have so much I want to say, I understand why he is quiet- there is no way to word it, no words worth speaking right now. 

I saw the gleaming buildings, the tall wall of Archeon before the treeline broke; it was a beautiful city, but it made my stomach drop, the familiar dread setting into me. I could only imagine what it must feel for Cal- to come back to a childhood home, disgraced, now practically a prisoner in a twisted brother’s game. I couldn’t possibly imagine, and for once, I pity him.

We’re both surprised at the voice.

“I assume you’re here for the king, and not for vacation.” 

Evangeline steps away from the walls of the city, like a stealthy, dark cat in her fitted metal outfit. It’s rather plain for her; it lacks its usual creativity, its usual edge. By the time I meet her eyes, I’m bewildered.

She has lost the typical make-up she cakes on, her face too pale and her eyes rimmed with dark bags. Her eyes are no longer sparkling, and she looks as dead as I feel. I expected fury, anger- and I’m met with a girl who looks like the simple thought of the crown has buried her.

“Something interesting?” She asks, but her bite just isn’t there. She’s trying, keeping up the mask, but it is lacking. 

“They just sent you?” I speak up, looking her over. She bristles.

“It’s not like you’d step a foot out of line, not now.” She says snarkily, sneering at us both. Cal is silent, just as taken back as I am; he has taken this as a bad sign, though, whereas I haven’t quite decided where it puts us. “With all he’s offered? You’d best be kissing the ground he walks on.”

I can’t help it- I laugh, the idea so ridiculous to me. I’d rather light up the ground he walks on with my lightning.

“You aren’t going to last long.” She says, but it’s not mean, it’s not biting. I go numb as I realize Evangeline is  _ pitying  _ me. 

Cal won’t meet my eyes, but I can feel the guilt, rolling off of him in waves.

Evangeline doesn’t talk much for the rest of the walk into the city; people stare, a few giving me choice words. One spits in my direction. 

Cal’s response is different. People yell at him, throwing things; Evangeline has to threaten a few, throwing metal into different directions. Not to kill or maim, but to hurt, just a message. She’s lost her usual spunk.

The realization that we are about to walk into Whitefire, into the palace, without silent stone or even an Arven to stop us, is sobering. The realization that Maven doesn’t fear us, because he  _ knows  _ he has us trapped, he knows we simply can’t afford to lash out. 

I thought I was trapped under Elara, thought I was trapped under a different crown; I was wrong. I didn’t know true control then.

“I’ll protect you as long as I can.” Cal repeats again, and the bags under his eyes seem alarming right now, making him seem a whole different person. He is no longer kingly, no longer royal, but simply a scared boy now. It makes me feel even more vulnerable.

Evangeline hears him, and I expect her to ridicule us; but she doesn’t. She doesn’t say a word to us. 

 

\-------------------

 

I don’t see Maven, not even as I enter the palace. 

I’m not sure what I expected, but I had thought there would be more bravado, more ridicule, more cruel taunting at our expense. I thought Maven would want to celebrate this event in front of everyone’s eyes, let the world know that we did not willingly choose this. I thought he’d want the world to know that he held the reigns, that he’d forced our hand.

But he didn’t, and it’s all the more genius; he wants the world to think we came willingly, that the Red Guard had simply controlled us this whole time. It makes the Guard seem even more malicious, more dangerous. It was brilliant, but foolish. Risky.

We take a back entrance, one heavily guarded but seemingly hidden.

I try not to panic when the separate us, try not to let the scream bubbling up in me come out when they take Cal away. There are four masked Sentinels waiting for him, and they surround him, already ushering him elsewhere.

I meet his eyes, his bronze eyes, and he doesn’t say a word but I can already feel the guilt. He thinks he’s caused this. 

I shake my head; no, this is my doing, my fate. No one decided it but me.

I tail Evangeline as she darts through the hallways. She barely looks at me.

“We have to get you bathed and dressed.” She says simply; I wait for the insult, to be called disgusting, dirty, poor, anything. But she doesn’t say a word. This isn’t the Evangeline I remembered- it’s a shell of the girl she once was. I wonder what Maven did to her, what he threatens her with.

I can’t picture Evangeline loving anything.

Except her brother, I think, a bitter shock going through me. I wonder if he is here.

I want to rip him apart, to tear him like he did my brother. I want Evangeline to feel what I felt, even though it wasn’t her fault. I don’t care, just as Ptolemus didn’t.

“Here.” She says, leading me into a beautiful parlor. I see an open door leading to a lavish room, far more beautiful than I’d ever stepped into. It’s all marble and gold, beautiful lights, fountains, and potted plants. It’s full of more money than I’d ever seen in my life.

I hate it.

\------------------

 

Evangeline comes back after the maids are done with me. She barges in without asking, but I don’t give her the satisfaction of making me embarrassed. Shared barracks, rooms with Farley or Gisa or some newblood, they’d all made me numb to changing in front of people. It’s not like I could complain about it- I have no power here, and Evangeline knows this.

I’m at least in my undergarments, the quiet maids trying to match a gown to my skin. They’re coming up short.

I stare her down with a scowl, trying to hide the anxious feeling in my stomach, the oncoming feeling of dread. I wouldn’t let her see that.

But she’s staring, instead; she’s not looking at my face, but at my side. 

I realize she’s looking at the handprint Cal had left, the one I hid from him; it’s healed nicely, only being a quick few seconds of heat, but it’s still got a pink shade that stands out dramatically against my skin. 

I move, hiding that side of me from her view.

“Here’s the dress Maven sent.” She says quietly, practically throwing a large box at the maids. She’s gone in an instant, like a skittish cat, darting out of the parlor. I feel bad for her, for angry, bitter Evangeline. He’s got her doing chores for the girl that stole the title she’d lusted after her whole life. Like salt in a wound.

The dress she left is nothing short of stunning; a dark, red gown that’s silky to the touch. It’s so fragile and beautiful I expect it to fall apart at my touch, but it’s surprisingly sturdy. It must’ve cost a fortune, must’ve been slaved over for many hours, if the encrusted rubies are any indication. 

I don’t want it near my body, don’t want it touching me, but I shrug it on anyways.

“What is this for?” I ask the maids, but they don’t talk to me. They won’t look at me.

They’re terrified, whether of me or Maven, I don’t know. Perhaps both.

 

\-----------------

 

It’s almost an hour later when Evangeline finally comes to pick me up again. She’s changed, but she looks hollow still, and her appearance shows it. Her dress is elaborate, but lacking in its usual gaudy, lavish style. Her hair is simple, her makeup minimal. She doesn’t seem to care.

“We have an extra stop before dinner.” She tells me, and there’s an emotion I can’t place in her voice, underneath her mask.

“What is it?” I can’t help but prod.

“I don’t know.” She snaps at me, before she can regain her composure. “I’m just told to stop near the guard’s barracks, in the training room.”

At the mention of the guard, my heart beats faster- it sounds as if I will get to see Cal again. But so soon? I had thought for sure that Maven would seperate us, or let us see each other in fleeting glances, in rooms full of people. Not so soon, right after we’d arrived. I try to think the best- maybe he is just greeting us together, holding his victory over both of our heads? 

I immediately tell something is wrong when we turn a corner. 

My heart drops, my blood going completely numb. I’m no longer aware of Evangeline, or my beautiful dress, or the luxury of Whitefire palace. I’m only intent on the scene before me.

I do see Cal again. He’s in a simple, strong uniform that I’d seen the king’s personal guard in a few times before, in fleeting glances. He looks strong and powerful, despite the position; there were few exceptions in which Cal didn’t look downright royal. 

Even now, on his knees before his younger brother, he looks strong and kingly.

I haven’t seen Maven in front of me in many months.

He’s the same boy I remember; I don’t know what I expected. Once I heard the monstrosities he committed, once he betrayed us, I always pictured him as a different person, as a new body. It’s alarming to see that he is in fact exactly the same. To match the atrocities to the face I once knew is morbid.

But he’s worn, thinner than he was before. He is tall and lean, gaining new strength and muscles, and his face is longer, more solemn. But his skin is so pale, his eyes marred with dark, dark bags. He grieves his mother desperately.

The most alarming addition, though, is the wicked grin stretched across his features. It’s so unnatural, so unnerving on his beautiful face. I may be sick.

“I told you we’d meet again, Mare.” He says simply, his grin practically gleaming. His words are not taunting, just simply natural. It’s as if he’s telling a small child a fact of life, a law. He knew it would happen, no matter what.

“Hello, Maven.” I say, and I try to hide the tremor in my voice, the fear. Had it been just him and I, it would be a different story; but the posture in the room, the guards in every corner, and the way he is looming over Cal- my mind is screaming that something is  _ wrong. _

“I thought we’d start out on the right foot, before supper.” He says, as if he’s talking about the weather. I still can’t get used to him, before me, after all the nights I’d dreamed of killing him. I don’t move a muscle now, though. Not with Cal here.

“Do you see healers often, Mare?” He asks, simply. He tilts his head to the side like a puppy, curious and interested. He’s so good at playing the part.

“Yes.” I say. I figure if I can bite back my hatred and give simple answers, it will fare better for us. For Cal.

“They must have missed something, didn’t they?” Maven says, giving a thoughtful look into the ceiling. I don’t know, not right now, and my heart is beating so fast I swear it may kill me. I’m praying to whatever is out there, praying that I didn’t already do something to hurt Cal.

Cal for once, isn’t looking away, isn’t thinking deeply. He’s watching us both like a hawk, meeting my eyes to have an unspoken conversation. It’s like we are speaking different languages, though.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” I say finally- Maven had been standing there, waiting for my response, seeing me and Cal desperately meeting one another’s eyes. Maven doesn’t change his expression, ever the perfect mask. He’s but a shell of a person.

“Well, I would assume that if you had a burn, you would want it healed.” Maven says, not looking away from me. His smile is gone, even as he tries to make his words light. He’s failing. 

I remember the impression on my hip, the handprint. I hate myself, hate myself for not thinking it over. I hate Evangeline, hate everything she stands for and her poisonous words. I’ll kill her, kill her and her brother myself.

“Unless it means something to you, of course.” Maven says, as if he is sympathetic to the cause. 

“I’m sorry.” I say simply, not sure what else I am supposed to do. My jaw is shaking, and I’m trying to control it- I’m better than that. But not when Cal is involved. 

“Oh, I don’t ask for your forgiveness.” Maven responds, smiling as if we are close friends, having a small disagreement. My heart drops. “But I think that perhaps we should  _ all  _ follow in your footsteps. I know my brother keeps his scars, doesn’t let healers touch them. Because they  _ mean  _ something, of course.”

I’m shaking my head before he even finishes. “Please, Maven. Please don’t.”

“We’re just getting off on the right foot, dear.” He says simply, smiling at my tears.

He turns back to his brother, kneeling at his feet. I swear I see a glimpse of a smile, a small, twisted thing, as he presses his hand to the side of Cal’s face, deeply burning the skin beneath.


End file.
